The unexpected man
by kimmiesjoy
Summary: She's come here with the answer to the wrong question and she cannot take her eyes off of him, off of the ring he's holding out to her and she's stupidly looking through the center of it to the man behind, to the blue in his eyes. Post Epi Watershed prompt.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Yes I went there, swore I wouldn't and did anyways. How has it only been a week? Thanks to Jessie for the on the fly beta. Based on a prompt from Diane who wanted to see something this-ish. So, for you my friend and for finding me on the darkest days and letting in a little light!

* * *

_**When all of your flaws and all of my flaws**_

_**Are laid out one by one...**_

* * *

She gapes, a bit -probably a lot more than a bit- looking down and the world is spinning, spinning and moving, oh no wait, that's the swing. She's still on the swing, but she's looking down and even with the swing the world is definitely spinning because he's on his knees, on his knees in the dirt at her feet with a ring.

A ring.

And it's not at all what she expected. Not the ring -the ring is gorgeous and there is this sudden twitch in her finger as if it yearns to see what that ring would look like on her hand- the man, the man on his knees in the dirt is not what she expected.

But, when is he ever?

He's on his knees with his blue eyes wide and full of innocence and then a little scary with the force of his stare, like he can see into her, through her maybe. Definitely, yes definitely, he has always seen through her, straight through the brick and mortar to the core of who she is and what did he say?

He fought his way inside?

No, no, more savage than that, more visceral. He had to _scratch _ and _claw_ for every inch, to get at her, to be near her. Because she's secretive and she doesn't let people in...and yet.

Yet she let him in, maybe deeper than he realises, maybe deeper than he sees because for a few seconds - seconds that stretched like years, decades full of agony as her heart clenched tight in her chest with downright deserved anguish and fear- she thought it was over. Done. And in those seconds she felt it, how deeply he is ingrained in her, how quickly her eyes flooded with tears at the thought of losing him, how thick the sob was that broke free from her chest and sat heavy at the back of her throat.

She's come here with the answer to the wrong question and she cannot take her eyes off of him, off of the ring he's holding out to her and she's stupidly looking through the center of it to the man behind, to the blue in his eyes as it deepens, deepens even as she watches him, as she makes him wait.

He's on his knees in the dirt and he's asking her a question, a question she imagined him asking a hundred different ways ever since that off hand comment after his birthday. He was going to get her back and never ever did it look like this, him listing her flaws and her insecurities, those nasty little bits in secret dark places that she hates, and still on his knees, still asking all the same.

She hates that it takes her so long to trust, that her love comes slowly and not as easy as it should. She hates that she stores the information of her life away in her head. That it stays there, trapped, like a library of conscience and conscious mind. She hates that she makes him check out one little piece of her at a time, storing away the rest and keeping it to herself.

She stares at it -the ring- and him -the unexpected man, the all too kind and caring man on his knees in the dirt- knowing her mouth is hanging open and seeing that his hands are shaking.

He's shaking.

And the ring, the tiny little, huge thing is gripped so tightly between the tips of two fingers that his skin is white with it. White and shaking.

He's shaking.

The ring is trembling in his fingers and god, he looks terrified. They have to be mirror images of each other right now because she can't imagine she looks anything other than shocked and scared to death.

Shell shocked, on the spot and in the moment, shocked. Because she came here expecting...not this. Not this baring of his soul, not the force of his sincerity or the seriousness of his face.

And he is deadly serious, she can see that, but she came here expecting to have to explain herself, to fight and to yell. She came with the prospect of heartache hanging over her head, and the need to beg for forgiveness that she might not deserve but still, still needed to plead for because the forced weight of being made to let go, it's too painful to think about.

But not this, this ring and this unexpected man.

She came here with an answer but she sees now it was to the wrong question and he beat her to it. He's on his knees with a ring and a sorrowful, truthful vow and pledge and declaration. Listing her flaws, her faults, his voice so low and clear as he marks them off of some universal checklist, those not so good parts of her, he knows them by heart and he loves her anyway.

He's shaking.

But his eyes are sort of determined with it, blunt and fierce and almost black-blue in their intensity and he's watching her so intently she can feel his gaze permeate her skin and glide over her bones. It touches her that deeply, the look and the feel of him and she knows he's watching her, knows his eyes are burning into her, burrowing under and desperately rooting for any sign of an answer to the question -the ultimate question- and she has none.

Her eyes are glued to the ring and it's beautiful. The engagement ring. Shit, he bought her a ring and it's quivering between the tips of his fingers.

His _fingers_ because it's not in a box, this tiny little circle of metal that tells a story so loud and deafening all the world will hear it. This little ring, that sparkles in the almost grey sunlight that floods the park, held so tightly between his fingers, and not in a box, that his shaking skin is white with the sheer force of it.

That he loves her was never in doubt, but here is a ring, a circular promise of always, of loving even the crappiest parts of her, the parts that she hates, here is his promise to love them anyway because they are who she is. Here is his answer to where they are going and what happens when the music stops, here is how he dives in, deep and permanent and forever.

No box, no velvet encasement, no need to adorn the truth. Just his fingers when he had to touch it seeking tangible proof, the soft platinum curve meeting the hard cut diamond edge.

Oh Castle, a ring?

She can see them, Castle, with the ring she is imagining as a living breathing entity, sitting here waiting for her. There might have been a box before, a small black box that rolled back and forth between his palms, that grew soggy and damp with sweat as he questioned his question, as he fumbled through the ways to ask, as he contemplated where they would be after her answer.

Then, of course, there was just the ring and his need to get it out, because holding the ring makes it real and his question is real and she pictures it burning a hole in his pocket -that oh so important circle of metal- until it's scorching the palm of his hand.

And now he's holding it out to her like it's the answer to everything, when in truth she came here with an answer all her own.

"Will you marry me?"

He blinks, blinks again when she doesn't speak and the silence is not only deafening, it's painful. He watches her toy with the watch at her wrist and he shifts on his knees, she knows the ground is cold and hard and she just wants to pull him up, but an answer needs to be given.

He lets out a long slow breath, his eyes still that wonderful, hopeful terrified blue of forever and she stares at him, at the ring and back again, watches his lips part as he takes in another breath. "Yes." He says quietly, the shake of his hand and the confusion in his eyes increasing, "That's what I asked."

He doesn't get it, doesn't know, that she came here with an answer to a different question, but one no less permanent and no less forever. She has already made her choice.

"No, Castle." She shakes her head, slips the watch from her wrist. Her father's watch, the one she clings to for the life she saved seems the most fitting thing to offer the man who saves her everyday, and she holds it level with the ring in front of his face.

The shock is dissipating slowly and she feels light, like she could smile even, because she came here with the answer to the wrong question. She's not leaving, of course she's not, this is her home. This is her life.

But she still came here with the _right_ answer to the _wrong_ question. So instead she leaves it up to him, this beautiful, wonderful, unexpected man, "Castle, I'm asking, will _you_ marry _me _?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thanks again to Diane for the prompt, I hope in some way it's what you imagined ;) and thank you to all those who took the time to read it, review or alert. In no way shape or form do I think this is what's going to happen, but that is why it's fun!

* * *

**All of your flaws and all of my flaws,**

**When they have been exhumed**

**We'll see that we need them to be who we are**

**Without them we'd be doomed.**

* * *

He's not entirely sure she's serious.

She's turned his question around on him and that is shocking enough, that she's not answered it but countered it with one of her own, and for a few seconds he just stays down in the mud and stares. Because it seemed like a good place to be, still does, down at her feet on his knees, not begging but staking a claim and letting her see he's all in.

He still doesn't understand why she doubts that, doesn't know how he missed it or how he held himself back, how he let the fear of pushing her too fast make him stop pushing for _them_ at all. And the _down on one knee _ part really did seem like a good idea at the time. Or an idea of an idea, because it's not exactly been planned out, he didn't think it through beforehand beyond the giving of the ring and the asking of the question.

Once he saw what he had been stupidly blind to -that he was holding back when he should be charging ahead- all he had thought about had been her and this and the asking of the question. But now his knee is protesting and it wasn't that long ago he had it in plaster and she's _proposing_ with her father's watch.

Her father's watch, the dark leather strap clasped in her hand making her wrists and her fingers look tiny.

Her father's watch, and he knows what that means to her, he knows intimately the reasons she takes it with her wherever she goes, why she clings to it. He bore witness to the herculean effort it took for her to be able to let go of her mothers ring but still, still needs to wear this watch day in day out.

She's asking him to marry her with her father's watch.

It represents that small spark of hope she clings to, has always clung to no matter what she might say about not believing in magic and fate. It's the joy on the darkest of days that she needs to be reminded of when she's locking away killers, when she remembers the monsters that hide in the shadows.

It's precious, and she holds it out to him in supplication, in offering, bouncing his question back at him.

_"Will you marry me?"_

What did she say? It's about _my _ life.

Her life apart from him and now she's asking, taking his proposal that's all about her answers and fitting into _her _ life in whatever small way she will let him, she's taking that and this proposal with her father's watch and making it about _him_.

His eyes drop to it, the watch that he has seen her mark time with for the last five years, and he knows he's taken her by surprise with his proposal and his vow that it doesn't matter _where_ she goes or what _job _ she does. Who she is is all that matters to him. It's _her_ he wants and nothing more.

He knows that he surprised her, but this, this response this unexpected turn of events has utterly floored him.

His eyes meet her own, both of them struggling to look away from the objects presented by the other, the ring in his hand and the watch in hers. The promises they both embody screaming loudly between them and for the first time, since either of them asked the question, they _look_ at each other.

Hard and soft, fierce and gentle, vulnerable and open, it all flows there in that meeting of brown and blue, in the swirl of green and sunlight.

"Are you...are you serious?"

"If you are." Her voice is paper thin and whisper quiet, but there is no hesitation when she speaks, just her words full of emotion and tearing at his heart. There are a thousand things, a million different things, just in the tone of her voice.

"If you want me like this." She takes a breath and her eyes drop from his own, as if it's incomprehensible to her that he could. Her gaze falls down to where the dirt is clinging to the material of his pants, where his knees still press into the mud, "Get up, Castle please." She blurts it suddenly, rising to her feet and standing in front of him, her movements and her words sounding desperate, like she can't stand him on his knees in front of her any longer.

Like she doesn't deserve it.

Like she doesn't deserve_ him_ and she pulls him up, the ring pressing harder into his fingers and the watch still clenched so tight in her hand that it presses into his wrist when she tugs at him.

He expects her to fall silent again, to retreat but she's already talking, like a cork has been popped and the words just bubble right up out of her.

"I'm saying honestly, truthfully, knowing all my flaws and knowing _me_. That I still keep secrets even when I know I shouldn't." She squeezes his hand, hard, "Even with me wanting to know so much more about you, Castle, and doubting you at the same time, I would say yes."

Her eyes drop to the ring again, the ring in his hand, still squeezed so tight in the tip of his white fingers, "I would say yes, but Castle, do you _want_ to marry _me_?" She blinks and waits. "Knowing what you know, that you still have to break me apart to get at the parts that you want-"

"I want it all."

"Exactly." She mumbles, looking up at him through the fan of her lashes. She opens her mouth, closes it again when nothing comes out and her eyes drop to the movement of his fingers.

"Yes." He says quietly, thumbing the clock-face of the watch still in her hand. "Yes, I still want it, everything, that's why I asked you. "

"You can't ask me," She shakes her head, "because I would be selfish and say yes and take that ring. Because I love you and I meant what I said a year ago. I just want _you_. Everything else is..it's important. Of course it is, but it's not the end." Her hand brushes so very lightly over his heart, against his chest, that he has to look down to believe she's touching him, "This. This is the end for me. This is where I'm done."

She holds out the watch to him, takes a deep breath and looks straight up into his wide eyes, letting him see her vulnerable and wanting, letting him see beyond that lingering doubt. "This is where I make my stand."

He speaks slowly, "So, you're asking me?"

"Yes, I'm asking you, I have to be the one asking you because if you ask me I'm saying yes." She huffs at herself, pushes her hair back behind her ear in frustration, "You have to be the one to decide that I'm enough for _you_. That scratching and clawing to get a little bit closer is worth the effort because if you ask _me_ I'm being selfish and I'm saying yes."

"You're saying yes."

"If you ask me."

"I did ask you."

"But, now I'm asking you."

"What if I say no?"

She flinches, barely, but enough that he catches it, catches the tremble of hurt that quivers over her skin. "Then I deserve to hear it." She says quietly "I deserve a "No" for doubting you and keeping things from you. For wanting you to change and staying the same, for keeping one foot out of the door and questioning you when you didn't rush head long down this path and drag me with you."

She sighs and steps closer, just a little bit, one foot in front of the other drawing her level, "If you say no, I deserve to hear it for asking you to wait, coming to you saying I was ready and barely taking a step forward in proving it. For making you work for every inch you gained." She chokes on the air she draws into her lungs, desperate with the emotion that's flooding her voice, feelings that have been trapped and lingering and afraid for far too long.

He wants to reach for her, to comfort her, but he has to be sure he understands "And I have to answer because, if I ask you, you're saying yes?"

But she stays silent.

"Yes?"

She's silent and stunned again, in awe again, staring at him _again _ but this time, this time she knows what's coming .

"Kate, if I ask again you're saying yes?"

"Yes." She stammers, almost dismissing it as she tries to get the words out while she has them, "But I'm asking _you_, and even if you say no I want you to have this," She reaches for his hand, offering him the watch and trying to slip the strap into place. It won't sit right though because now _her _ hands are trembling and he's stepping back, stepping away from her before she can make it right.

"Kate."

She draws in a breath and meets his eyes expecting another wave of that dread, of the devastation that hit her when he said he wanted to talk about their relationship and the only words she could hear were "It's over, it's over, it's over." But there is nothing of that in his face, no doubt or fear, no agony and no he's not smiling but maybe he's close to it, closer than he was the first time anyway and he says her name again.

"Kate."

A quiet thing, just her name over his lips, a quiet moment with the unexpected man and it says it all, says enough for both of them and he shimmers before her as her eyes well up again, but she nods. She nods knowing what it means and believing he does too, especially when he drops slowly to his knees in front of her again, taking her no less by surprise than the first time he did it.

"I'm asking again." He says, another quiet thing, a stupidly obvious thing because she can see that he's down on one knee, but she nods again like she needed to hear it, needed to see it to believe it and hear it in his voice that he did too. Down on one knee, with the ring up in front of his face, just like the first time, and the tips of his fingers white and his hands shaking just like the first time.

Her whole body is too, shaking, vibrating with it and she clings to the chain of the swing at her side because he's asking again and this time she's saying yes.

"Katherine Houghton Beckett, will you marry me?"

**The End.**


End file.
